


Condition Terminal

by panicattackkisses



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Lydia, S5X04, Stiles-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicattackkisses/pseuds/panicattackkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I haven’t done a little one shot in a while! So here you go, have this one. A highly requested prompt after the events of episode three/four. If you haven’t seen it, I suggest avoiding this, because, you know - spoilers and whatnot. Enjoy and let me know what you think!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Condition Terminal

Stiles’ hands were shaking, his cracked knuckles caked in blood. His steering wheel was flecked with spatters of red, blue flashing lights of the ambulance illuminating the inside of the Jeep. His throat was raw, the tears in his eyes making the world in front of him shift in and out of focus. He couldn’t breathe.

_______________________________

_“Stiles! Stiles, just wait!’’_

_He ignored Scott’s warning, feeling his friend next to him as they both rushed to the doors of the station. There was no noise coming from inside, only the flickering lights from the windows, the car park empty and the night air cold._

_He didn’t feel Theo behind him when the doors opened under Scott’s hands, he didn’t see the mess of papers that were spilled from the turned over desks in the lobby. He didn’t notice how sparks fell from light fixtures, how the hung precariously from exposed wires._

_Everything was quiet, Stiles had thought, too quiet for the scene that was before him. It had taken him five, stumbling steps before he realised people’s mouths were moving, Scott was shouting at him and something in the distance was wailing._ _  
_ _Suddenly, like a goddamn tidal wave and came rushing on top of him like a dark shadow._

_Stiles was drowning and water flooded his vision and made his chest burn. He staggered through the dim room, people moving frantically around him that he didn’t really see. Bodies were on the floor… Blood made pathways and trails to places he didn’t want to go to. But he followed anyway, through instinct or fear, he didn’t know._ __  
__  
_Where was she. Where the fuck was she._ __  
__  
_Stiles felt like screaming, his legs felt like lead underneath him, his feet a dead weight as they stood on dark, wet floorboards. Everything was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong._ __  
__  
_His hands were trembling as they felt their way along the walls that had scratches and claws embedded into them and suddenly, whimpers filled the air and his stomach dropped in response._ __  
__  
**_No_ ** _._ __  
__  
_The boy tripped over his own feet as he reached the doorway to his father’s office. The room was almost untouched, the desk in its rightful place and the photo of him and the sheriff sitting safely behind a glass frame._ __  
_It was the amount of blood on the floor that made Stiles’ breath rip out from his throat._ __  
__  
_Kira was kneeling beside a lifeless bundle - a body bathed in red - from the curls that spilled from her head to the shining liquid that leaked from her wounded side._ __  
_  
_ _No._

_Something inside Stiles broke, and he didn’t think it was his metaphorical heart - the pink, candy coated one that was supposed to signify everything he felt for this girl. No, something deep within him shattered and broke into a thousand pieces and for a second, Stiles was sure it was his sanity - the one thing left that tethered him to this fucking planet._

_His chest flooded with too many emotions, ones that he was sure he was never supposed to feel at such a young age. Every inch of his body and soul hurt - a deep, raw pain that fucking screamed at him._ __  
_  
_ _He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak._

_In his head, he was throwing himself on the floor with the girl, her blood soaking into his shirt as he pulled her onto his lap. His forehead would meet her own as he soothed her, their eyelashes brushing and his panicked whispers falling onto her lips. He would fix it, he would help her, and she would cling to him, she would believe his words._ __  
_  
_ _But when he blinked, he was still standing frozen in the doorway, one foot in front of him as if his body was telling him what to do, pleading with him to move, to do something, anything._

_He barely managed to take a breath before a body pushed past him, a figure that he associated with distrust and doubt. Theo was pulling off his belt, the leather snapping harshly in the cold air. He was the one who brought himself down beside Lydia._

_The girl whimpered in pain, her pretty features distorted in agony and a sheen covering her skin that Stiles related instantly to infection, disease, illness, fever, death._

_The room was tilting, the world was spinning and he couldn’t stop it. No._

_No._

_Theo laced his belt around Lydia’s side as Stiles watched on in complete horror, he could feel his unblinking eyes burn, his jaw was slack, his body not quite rooted to reality. There was so much_ **_blood_ ** _. She was so pale._ __  
_Another figure knocked into him from the side, small and feminine, and she let out a harsh gasp as she gaped at her daughter lying on the floor. Stiles caught the woman as her step faltered, but soon, her hand was torn from his grasp as she too fled to Lydia, soothing back the girls damp hair from her forehead._ __  
_  
_ _Fuck._

_Stiles swayed on the spot and it wasn’t until he finally blinked once more, that he realised Lydia was looking up at him. Pain was ingrained in her eyes, her jaw tight as she tried to smile at him. He stared back at her, his heart beating faster and faster. She knew._ __  
__  
_She knew everything, he could tell by the look they shared. Her features, flinching with pain, were still so soft as she tried to nod and him, silently telling him it was okay, she was okay._ **_It wasn’t. Nothing was okay._ ** ****__  
__  
_“Stiles’’._ __  
__  
_A voice from behind, faded and dulled as another roar rushed over him. It was getting harder to breath - like he was underwater. Everything around him moved slowly and he felt like he was floating. Nothing was real, this couldn’t be real._ __  
__  
_“Stiles…’’ Scott shifted behind him, his voice gentle but commanding, “Stiles, come on’’._ __  
__  
_The boy glanced behind him, he felt slow and sluggish. He glanced at Scott and he watched his friend soften when their eyes met. His eyes were still wide and glassy, his expression, screaming ‘help’._ __  
_The alpha placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder but Stiles was already turning back to the girl, to the blood and to the three people around her that weren’t him._ _  
_ _His fingers curled into fists by his sides and he fought the urge to thread them through his hair. He was shaking, it was so fucking cold._ ****_Was Lydia cold? Was she feeling anything right now?_

_Lydia_ **_._ ** ****__  
__  
_Fuck, Lydia._ **_No_ ** _._ __  
__  
_“It’s okay. She’s alright’’, he heard Scott soothe, but even his voice was unsure, wary and void of the strength it usually held._ __  
__  
_His eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything to focus on. There was so much blood. But like he always did, he found her in the end, and when their eyes met once more, Lydia smiled. It was tight, laced with agony and it didn’t fool him for a second. But she was putting so much effort into the movement that he couldn’t argue with her, he didn’t think he could’ve spoken if he wanted to. His eyes glazed over, water making the shapes and bodies before him turn to mosaics._ __  
__  
_“Tracy’’, Lydia told him, her own voice weak and trembling, “Stiles, find her’’._ __  
__  
_If Stiles hadn’t felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, he would’ve laughed. Because even in pain and weakness, the girl was still giving him orders. Feeling utterly desperate for reassurance, for something to make him feel normal again, he turned back to Scott and saw his father for the first time. The sheriff stood in the background with a gash on his leg, cut on his cheek and a look in his eyes that told Stiles that everyone understood how he was feeling._ __  
__  
_He glanced back at Lydia one last time, watching as Kira pressed down on her wound, how the blood stained her hands red. He saw how Theo was watching him with careful eyes, but Stiles couldn’t find it in him to care. The boy finally moved when his Dad limped over to him and he swept an arm around his shoulder. Between himself and Scott, they moved to the doorway and when it clicked shut, Stiles stomach lurched._ _  
_ _He wanted to vomit, to rid himself of the feeling of complete dread that had settled in his stomach. He hated the way his throat and chest burned, he hated how he had to keep his tears at bay. His mind was racing and his feet were unsure of the concrete underneath him. The world was on it’s side again._

_______________________________

__  
He had sat in the car for almost half an hour now, watching as Scott raced ahead of him on his bike. Stiles was watching the ambulance in front of him, staring at the medics who rushed into the station to tend to Lydia, to get her to safety. The blue and red lights made his eyes sting in the darkness, making the inside of the jeep turn into shades of crimson and navy. Lydia.  
  
His fingers stung as he bit at the nail, the skin around it raw and red. His knuckles screamed at him and he hated himself for losing control, for punching the steering wheel until more fucking blood appeared. The metallic scent surround him, clung to, stuck to him. It was all he could breath in and he was sure it was in his fucking lungs by now, drowning him in a constant reminder of Lydia. __  
__  
Stiles’ hands trembled as he raised them both in front of his face for the eight time, his fingers splayed out as the shook with the sheer effort. Focus, he told himself, do it.  
  
Count.  
  
_One, two, three, four, five._  He cursed, and his throat burned as he sucked in a deep breath.  _Again_.  
  
_One, two three,_ ** _fuck_** _, four, five._ __  
  
His fist met the wheel and he cried out, his chest burning.  
  
It was no use, it was real. No matter how many times he counted, it was real. He really did see Lydia on the floor, covered in her own blood. It was real. 


End file.
